As the shouting softened
and the banners came down,
we stood for a moment
in that hush after thunder.
and the banners came down,
we stood for a moment
in that hush after thunder.
Our hands still warm
from holding one another,
palms faintly marked
with the imprint
of shared resolve.
from holding one another,
palms faintly marked
with the imprint
of shared resolve.
The pavement was not mended.
The fractures remained—
threading through streets and stories.
Nothing miraculous appeared
to sweep them clean.
The fractures remained—
threading through streets and stories.
Nothing miraculous appeared
to sweep them clean.
And yet—
beneath the quiet
a hidden pulse traveled,
shoulder to shoulder,
breath to breath,
reminding us:
a hidden pulse traveled,
shoulder to shoulder,
breath to breath,
reminding us:
rising is rarely sudden.
It is slow and steady,
unwinding, unfolding—
the gentle unburdening of backs
long bent.
It is fingers loosening from fear
only to lace again
with waiting hands
open to healing.
Still, we rise—
not as flames leaping skyward,
but as morning does:
gradual, persistent,
spilling light
into stubborn corners
hungry for dawn.
We rise in kitchens and classrooms,
on buses and worn front steps,
exchanging small mercies
between stranger and neighbor.
Our hands open
to receive common bread—
sustaining, nourishing—
as together we walk
into widening light.
We rise in choosing
listening over shouting,
melody over mockery,
presence over retreat.
And together—
composing verse by living verse—
we shape a shared refrain
no single voice could carry.
composing verse by living verse—
we shape a shared refrain
no single voice could carry.
Still, we rise—
not because the road
has been paved smooth,
not because every wound
has been soothed,
not because the road
has been paved smooth,
not because every wound
has been soothed,
but because hesed and shalom—
quiet and unrelenting—
keep lifting us
toward one another
and toward the Holy Mystery
that gathers us
again
and again.
quiet and unrelenting—
keep lifting us
toward one another
and toward the Holy Mystery
that gathers us
again
and again.
